THE NAME ON THE REGISTER.
Not far, however, for he released the rope and shot out his arms. He had
swung across so that he was opposite the open window when the rope was
cut.
Merriwell knew all his peril at the instant when he swung from the sill
of his own window, but it was too late for him to keep himself from
being carried out by the rope.
In a twinkling, his one thought was to reach the other window quickly,
knowing he would be dashed to death on the paving below if he did not.
He flung himself toward that window, just as the rope parted. His arms
shot in over the sill, and there he dangled.
Down past his head shot the rope, twisting and writhing in the air, like
a snake. He heard it strike on the sidewalk in front of the hotel.
An exclamation of rage broke from the lips of the man in the window
above, for he realized that Frank had not fallen with the rope.
He leaned far out, lifted his arm, made a quick motion, and something
went gleaming and darting through the air.
He had flung the knife at Frank.
It missed Merriwell, shot downward, and struck with a ringing clang on
the stones below.
"Missed!" snarled the man. "Well, I'll get you yet!"
Then Merriwell drew himself in at the window, and the peril was past.
No wonder he felt weak and limp. No wonder that he was jarred and
somewhat bewildered. It was a marvel that he was not lying dead in the
street below.
Frank understood the full extent of the peril through which he had
passed, and a prayer welled from his lips.
"Thank God!"
He was grateful in his heart, and he felt that he had been spared
through the kindness of an all-wise Providence.
It was some moments before he could stir. He lay on the floor, panting,
and regaining his strength.
He heard no sound in the room, for all the noise he had made in coming
in, and more than ever he became convinced that the room had been
occupied by his desperate enemy who had sought to destroy him that
night.
There was now no longer a doubt concerning the purpose of the man who
had gained admission to Frank's room. The fellow had not come there for
plunder, but for the purpose of harming Merriwell.
Frank rose and sought the gas jet, which he lighted. Then he looked
around.
Somehow, it seemed that the room had been occupied that night, although
the bed was undisturbed, showing that no person had slept in it.
Frank fancied that his enemy had sat by the window, waiting, waiting
till he felt sure Merry was sound asleep.
And Frank had been sleeping soundly. He realized that, and he knew
something had caused him to awaken, just in time.
What was it? Was it some good spirit that hovered near to protect him?
He looked all round the room, but could find nothing that served as a
clew to the identity of the man who had occupied the apartment.
But the register would tell to whom the room had been let.
Having decided to go down and look the register over, Frank wondered how
he was to get back into his own room, for the door was locked and bolted
on the inside.
He went to the window and looked out. There was no way for him to reach
his window now that the rope had been cut.
"And I should not be surprised if I am locked in this room," thought
Merry.
Investigation showed, however, that the door was unlocked, and he was
able to step out into the corridor.
But there he was, shut out from his own room by lock and bolt, and
dressed in nothing but a suit of pajamas.
The adventure had assumed a ludicrous aspect. Frank wondered what he
could do. It was certain that they would not break into his room at that
hour of the night, for the sound of bursting the bolt would disturb
other sleepers.
The watchman came down the corridor. He saw Frank and came onward with
haste, plainly wondering what Merry was doing there.
"Look here," said Frank, "I want to know the name of the man who
occupies No. 231, this room next to mine."
"What is the matter?" asked the watchman.
"This person has disturbed me," said Frank, truthfully. "I am not going
to raise a kick about it to-night, but I shall report it to the clerk in
the morning."
"Does he snore loudly?" inquired the watchman. "I didn't think you could
hear through those partitions."
"Here," said Frank, who had seen the watchman before, "you know me. My
name is Merriwell. I haven't a cent in these pajamas, but I'll give you
two dollars in the morning if you will go down to the office, look on
the register, find out who occupies No. 231, and come back here and tell
me."
Now it happened that Frank had given the watchman fifty cents the night
before to do something for him, and so the man was persuaded to go down
to the office, although it is quite probable that he did not expect to
see the promised two dollars in the morning.
Frank waited.
The watchman came back after a time.
"Well," asked Merry, "did you look on the register and find out the name
of the man who was given No. 231?"
"I did," nodded the watchman.
"What is his name?"
"William Shakespeare Burns," was the astonishing answer.
Frank staggered. He told the watchman he had made a mistake, but the man
insisted that he had not. That was enough to excite Merry more than
anything that had happened to date.
Could it be that Burns, the old actor, whom he had befriended, had
sought his life?
It did not seem possible.
If it were true, then, beyond a doubt, the man had been bribed to do the
deed by some person who remained in the background.
It did not take Frank long to tell the watchman what had happened. The
man could scarcely believe it. He seemed to regard Merriwell as somewhat
deranged.
"If you do not think I am telling the truth," said Merry, "get your keys
and try my door. If you are able to open it, I shall be greatly
pleased."
The watchman did so, but he could not open the door of the room.
"Now," said Merry, "to make yourself doubly sure, go down to the
sidewalk in front of the hotel and you will find the rope there."
The man went down and found the rope. He came back greatly agitated.
"This is a most astonishing occurrence," he said. "Never knew anything
like it to happen here before."
"Keep your eyes open for the man who had No. 231," said Merry. "I am
going to take that room and sleep there the rest of the night. In the
morning the door of my room must be opened for me."
He went into that room, closed the door, locked it and bolted it, closed
and fastened the window, and went to bed. Of course he did not go to
sleep right away, but he forced himself to do so, after a time, and he
slept peacefully till morning.
In the morning Frank found the door of his room had been forced, so he
was able to go in immediately on rising. He had been unable to obtain a
room with a private bath connected, but there was a bathroom directly
across the corridor, and he took his morning "dip," coming out as bright
as a new dollar.
But the mystery of the midnight intruder weighed heavily on Merry. He
felt that he would give anything to solve it, and it must be solved in
some manner.
Bart came around before breakfast, and he found Merriwell standing in
the middle of his room, scowling at the carpet. Frank was so unlike his
accustomed self that Hodge was astounded.
"What's happened?" asked Bart.
"One of the most singular adventures of my life," answered Frank, and he
proceeded to tell Bart everything.
"Singular!" cried Hodge. "I should say so! You are dead in luck to be
alive!"
"I consider myself so," confessed Merry; "but I would give any sum to
know who entered my room last night. Of course the name on the register
was false."
"Are you certain?"
"Certain! Great Scott! You do not fancy for an instant that Burns was
the man, do you?"
"I don't know."
"Well, I do!"
"You mean you think you do."
"No; I mean that I know. Burns was not the man."
"How do you know?"
"Why, hang it, Hodge! Why should that unfortunate old fellow wish to
harm me, who has been his friend?"
"Somebody may have hired him to do it."
"Oh, you're daffy on that point! Reason will teach you that. If it had
been Burns, he would not have registered under his own name. But I
absolutely know it was not Burns I encountered. Besides being ridiculous
that a man of his years and habits should venture to enter my room in
such a manner, the man whom I encountered was supple, strong, and quick
as a flash. Burns could not have fought like that; he could not have
escaped in such an astonishing manner."
"Oh, well, perhaps not," admitted Hodge, who seemed reluctant to give
up. "But I have warned you against Burns all along, and----"
"Oh, drop him now! Somebody else is trying to injure the poor fellow. I
want to know who did the job last night, and W. S. Burns will not be
able to tell me anything."
Bart had no more to say, and they went down to breakfast together.
Of course the hotel people promised to do everything possible to
discover who had made the assault, but Frank had little confidence in
their ability to accomplish anything. In fact, he believed the time had
passed to do anything, for it seemed that his enemy had escaped from the
hotel without leaving a trace behind him.
Frank thought over the list of enemies who had sought to injure him
since he entered theatricals, and he was startled. Three of his enemies
were dead. Arthur Sargent had been drowned; Percy Lockwell was lynched,
and Leslie Lawrence met his death in the quicksands of Big Sandy River.
Of his living enemies, who might be desperate enough to enter his room
and seek to harm him Philip Scudder stood alone.
Where was Scudder? Was he in Denver? If so----
"If so, he is the man!" decided Frank.
Merry resolved to be on his guard, for something told him another
attempt would be made against him.